Wear the Falling Stars
by reidingrainbow
Summary: When Clare first began writing, she was inspired by a friend who was tragically ripped away at a young age. Now, as she enters college, she is partnered in English class with an acquaintance from her time at Degrassi, who may be the only person to understand her sense of loss. AU.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

I met Julia at my creative writing class in eighth grade.

I hadn't wanted to go. My mother had signed me up after we found out that my sister Darcy had been date raped last winter, so that I could "express my feelings about the situation." Of course, it was an unspoken assumption that she would be able to read everything I wrote, an idea that even daughters closest to their mothers would find repulsive at thirteen. I actually _liked_ writing; I just hated the idea of Mom analyzing every short story for some underlying issue that she could immediately jump in and control.

Despite my complaints, every Tuesday and Thursday from 4:15 to 5:30, I dutifully walked over after school to the art center where I had taken Mommy-and-Me fingerpainting classes in preschool. The classroom was open, with a big window that let in natural light and long benches for writing. Although the class had been touted as "Our most popular class! Fills up fast so sign up now or miss out!" there were only six other students in the class, all of whom seemed much older than me, but were probably only two or three grades ahead. They sat comfortably chatting before class, swapping story ideas faux-casually but really attempting to establish their literary superiority over each other.

Even though the other students intimidated me, my teacher, Ellen, made the class worthwhile. She was an older lady, tiny with gray hair and intelligent eyes, that I immediately wanted to impress. Since there were an odd number of students and I was the obvious man out, Ellen was my writing partner for the first three weeks of the class, where I would clumsily read to her what I had worked on for the first half of each class. The knowledge that my mother was reading my notebook made even my innocent story about vampire romance feel stifled and painfully dull. Still, Ellen's suggestions were always helpful and though she gently encouraged me to write something more personal, she was never pushy, which I appreciated.

It was the eighth session when Julia barged into the classroom, throwing her backpack into a corner and opening the cabinet to grab a notebook, obviously familiar with the room. She sat on the same bench as me, but further down, scribbling fiercely into the notebook. I had been working with Ellen on my new chapter, trying to explain to her why it made sense for the fifteen year old heroine to live by herself instead of with her family.

"Excuse me for a minute," said Ellen in her gentle manner.

I nodded and watched her walk over to Julia. As they talked, I studied the newcomer. She was taller than me and skinnier, with long legs encased in black jeans and boots. Her hair was dark, too, and fell thickly across her back. Even from far away, I could tell she was pretty.

Suddenly, they both looked over at me. I glanced away quickly and pretended to make a note in my journal as they approached me.

"Clare," said Ellen. "This is one of my students from my school, Julia. She'll be joining our class and I thought you too could work as partners. She's a freshman. Julia, this is Clare, one of my favorite writers here. She's writing about vampires."

Julia looked at me. "Nice uniform."

I flushed. "I go to a Christian school," I explained. "I've been wearing this since kindergarten."

Julia sat down across from me and grabbed my notebook before I could react. "So, what's your story about? I'm obsessed with horror!"

"I'll leave you two to it," said Ellen, in that pleased way that adults speak when they sense they have successfully matched up two young people.

Julia looked up from my story, raising her eyebrow and giving me a slight smile. And even though she was a hundred times cooler than me, and even though after she was done reading my paranormal romance, she told me it was "a bastardization of the horror genre," I could just tell that we were going to be friends.

And we were.

Julia and I never once hung out outside of class; we were exclusively writing class friends. But somehow, that made our relationship tighter. I was never worried that she would judge me or tell my secrets to other friends, because our outside worlds simply didn't overlap. As I moved to high school, I gabbed to her about my new friends, Ali, Connor, and KC, how I _maybe_ felt a little something more for KC than I would ever admit to him, and my worries about my sister, who had never really been the same after her ordeal.

Julia was more secretive. She had a serious boyfriend, I knew, that she constantly referred to, although never by name, and a seriously awful home life. I had been secretly envious of her slender body, until I realized that she was so thin because her dad spent all of their money on alcohol. After that, I never was jealous of her looks.

Despite her difficulties, Julia always dispensed useful advice. Per her suggestion, I started to keep two notebooks: one for light-hearted writing exercises that I wouldn't care if Mom read and another, secret journal so that I could really express myself. I even started to wear actual clothes, instead of my former private school uniform.

"If I know Saint Clare, she can ignore boys as well in jeans and a sweater as she can in a uniform," Julia had teased.

I was introduced to Chuck Palahniuk novels, dark gothic literature, and was convinced to ditch my hair straightener for my naturally curly hair. My writing got sharper too. I didn't write about "tough" topics yet, but I was no longer ashamed of what I produced. Sometimes, I read excerpts in front of the class, even though the older kids still made me nervous.

And then, two bombs dropped.

First, Darcy moved to Kenya. Although she said she wanted to atone for all of her mistakes, I knew she was running away to a place where she wasn't automatically known as the raped Christian cheerleader. We had never been particularly close, but I didn't realize how intensely I would miss my sister when she left. Within a month of her announcement, Darcy was gone and it was just Mom, Dad, and me.

The second happened during my final writing class of the session. I was waiting for Julia to arrive in class one day. I had just written a new piece, a poem about how I really felt about Darcy moving across the world with scarcely any warning. It was April 23 and I thought it was my best, most personal work yet. Ellen walked slowly into the classroom, wiping away tears.

"Class, I'm sorry to announce that, yesterday, one our dear members of our writing family passed away. Julia is no longer with us."

And, just like that, my friend was gone forever.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

_Three years later_

"A C+!" I gasped when I got my essay back. My eyes instantly welled with tears, an embarrassing reflex that had plagued me since I was in second grade and had missed a word on a spelling test. I had been sure that my paper was A material, or at the very least, worthy of an A-.

I sat quietly through the rest of class, trying and failing to focus on what my English professor was saying. At the end of class, I approached her.

"Professor Dawes? Can I talk to you about my paper?" I asked tentatively. I was a freshman in college and still nervous about approaching my professors, who always seemed like they were in a hurry for something.

"Of course, Clare," she replied.

"I don't understand why I got a C+ on this paper. I used complex sentence structures. I investigated my topic thoroughly and used a variety of resources that balanced each other. I have perfect grammar!" I said, ending more angrily than I had intended.

"The goal of this class is to write about something or someone important to you and explain its significance. And although gun control is certainly a worthy topic for discussion, it wasn't quite what I had in mind," Professor Dawes explained. "I understand that you're just a freshman, but you need to make your writing more personal so it will resonate with the reader."

I flushed, the tears coming back to the corners of my eyes. I didn't think anyone had ever critiqued my writing before, not since my creative writing class my freshman year of high school.

Professor Dawes noticed my reaction. "Clare," she said in a gentler tone. "I think you are a good writer. I really do. But you have some things you need to work on, like any other writer. Have you considered finding a writing partner? We have an excellent program here."

I shook my head. "I don't like sharing my writing."

"Maybe that's the problem. I can tell that you're used to being the best writer in your class, but this class is full of people who have worked just as hard and love English just as much as you do," said the professor. "If this isn't something you want to work on, you'll have to accept that you will always do slightly above average – and that's what a C+ is in college."

I kept my eyes trained steadily on the ground. I had never been so humiliated in my whole life, even though I could tell Professor Dawes was truly trying to be helpful. "Thank you, Professor. I'll see you on Monday."

I made it to my dorm room before I started to cry.

…..

I spent the weekend thinking about what Professor Dawes had said, in between trying to catch up on readings and studiously avoiding my roommate, Sabrina. Sabrina had seemed nice enough at the beginning of the semester, but she was so nosy that it made it hard to want to spend time with her. My room wasn't the refuge it was supposed to be, with her persistent questions. Instead, I spent much of my time in Ali's room across campus or in a small café on the outskirts of campus where I could do my homework in peace.

By the time I returned to English 289 on Monday morning, I felt invigorated. I didn't need a writing partner necessarily; I just needed to approach my ideas freshly.

Professor Dawes clearly had other ideas. "Class, I'll be assigning you to work in pairs today," she said in her loud tone. "I have chosen these pairs purposefully, so there will be no switching. You will be working closely with each other throughout the semester, so I suggest you become friends now."

She began to read off the pairs and I scanned the room, looking to see who would be my partner. There were lots of girls who seemed friendly that I wouldn't mind working with.

"And finally, Clare Edwards and Elijah Goldsworthy. Please go find your partner and have them read your first draft of the new essay topic."

_Ugh._ I did not want to work with Eli Goldsworthy. He had been a year ahead of me at Degrassi High and, though we had never spoken, I could tell that we would not get along. He had always been scribbling in a notebook by himself and constantly fixating on symbols of death in literature during our shared English class in Grade 11. I had even heard that he had overdosed on drugs, crashing his hearse in a suicide attempt.

I glanced across the room at him. He looked just as unhappy as I felt. Suddenly, he looked over at me, catching me staring. As our eyes met, I flushed and quickly looked away.

Gritting my teeth, I crossed the room to where he sat.

"Hi," I said ungraciously.

Eli raised his eyebrows. "Well, well, well. Clare Edwards. Isn't this an unexpected surprise?"

I ignored what I was sure was a jab. "Well, here is my first draft. Tell me what you think."

Taking Professor Dawes' advice, I had written about something a little more personal for my second essay – my relationship with my mother.

Eli flopped down his essay in front of me. "It's the second chapter of my book."

"Your book?" I rolled my eyes. _How pretentious_.

"Yeah, it's called _Death of an Angel_," continued Eli. "Professor Dawes loved it. Said it was a little wordy though, so you could help me with that, I guess."

His tone implied that I wouldn't be able to help with much else.

I flushed again, this time with anger, but I began reading Chapter 2. To my chagrin, it was actually really good. The plot was tight and exciting. Obviously, I hadn't read Chapter 1, so at first I was a little lost, but I was quickly engrossed with the characters. However, Eli hadn't been kidding when he said it was wordy. Sometimes, I had to reread whole paragraphs to understand what was happening.

When I was done, I looked up. Eli was staring at me, arms crossed and a smirk across his face. "Pretty good, right?"

"Yeah, actually. It definitely could use some cutting down, but I thought the plot was great," I said begrudgingly. "What did you think of mine?"

"Honestly? I thought it was kind of boring," he replied.

My mouth dropped open. "What? I wrote about my mother. That is definitely not boring! We have a difficult relationship!"

"That's not really how it sounds. Like, you fought once in four years of high school, but still love each other no matter what? Not exactly thrilling."

I looked away. My eyes were welling up again, the third time in a week.

Eli seemed to sense that he had been too harsh. "Hey, Edwards. I do think you are a good writer," he said in a softer tone. "You just need to write about things that you actually care about."

Glancing back at him, his green eyes seemed sincere. "Okay," I said. "I guess I can try. But, hey, what about you? _Death of an Angel_ isn't exactly your deepest, darkest secrets. It's fiction."

This time it was Eli who seemed uncomfortable. "It's an allegory. For letting down someone who trusted you the most."

Before I could answer, Professor Dawes called out, "Class is done for today, everybody. Final drafts are due next class. See you Friday."

"Bye," I said, pushing back my chair. I couldn't wait to leave.

"Edwards?" said Eli.

I looked back.

"I know you can do it," he said and then left.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Taking Eli's words to heart, no matter how irritating he might have been, I carefully worked on my paper the following day, trying to add a few more personal details here and there. I inserted a paragraph about my parent's devastating divorce and how lonely I felt since Darcy was gone and I was all alone. Three hours later, my paper was done and neatly printed on my desk. I felt like my paper was stronger for its additions, and I still felt comfortable with Professor Dawes and Eli reading it.

While Darcy was on my thoughts, I logged into my email to see if she had responded to my latest note. As expected, there was no response. Suddenly, I felt so weary. Darcy had been my protector and my best friend throughout childhood, but I was lucky to hear from her once or twice a year, let alone keep up a regular correspondence. I felt like she had died. Family was supposed to be forever, but since my sister was halfway around the world and my parents were so involved in their own battles that they never even noticed me, I felt abandoned.

With a flash of inspiration, I pulled open my bottom desk drawer where my old personal notebook sat. I hadn't used it since Julia's death – while it preserved her memory, it also was a gut-wrenching reminder that I was alone. I had only held it once or twice since that day in April. Now, I flipped through the pages, laughing and wincing at what I had written so long ago. Julia's comments were scrawled throughout, like "This sucks!" or "Wow, Clare, you actually have talent. This is a keeper." They made me smile as I felt that familiar stab of loneliness in my stomach.

Finally, I found the page I had been looking for. The piece was titled _Darcy's Poem_, the poem I had wanted to share with Julia but had never been able to. As I read it, it was still just as meaningful to me as I had when I had written it. Opening up my word processor, I typed up the poem and printed it, setting by my piece for class. Even though I would probably never be able to share it, I wanted it near me for some weird reason. Julia's presence had always both comfortable and uncomfortable, appreciating me for who I was and pushing me to be the best person I could be. I felt like this poem, in a strange way, would remind me to do that for myself.

…..

"Only five more hours until I'm 19!" exclaimed Sabrina. "Ready to raaaaaaaaaaaaaaaage?"

I rolled my eyes. "Uh, sure."

Sabrina was turning 19 and had planned a massive Thursday night out at the club to celebrate. As her roommate, I was pretty much obligated to attend. Luckily, Ali was coming. She didn't do a very good job of pretending to tolerate Sabrina, but sometimes it was nice to have someone around to tell Sabrina to be quiet.

"Is that what you're wearing?" asked Sabrina. "I have a totally hot dress you can borrow!"

I glanced down. I was dressed in my normal clothes of jeans and a tank top, with a sweater over it. I was wearing heels and some more makeup than usual though. It was a club and I'm not a nun. Just conservative.

Sabrina, on the other hand, had straightened her long blond hair and piled on makeup. She was wearing a bright pink dress, skyscraper heels, and a long gold necklace that was nestled in her cleavage, complete with a birthday tiara.

"Yes," I said firmly. I was all about being a good roommate, but I wasn't going to change because Sabrina thought my outfit wasn't up to her trashy standards.

There was a short knock and then the door swung open. Ali flounced through the door. "Ready to rage?" she announced.

Oh, gosh. There were two of them.

Ali had recently split from her boyfriend Dave. She was seemingly embracing the single lifestyle with enthusiasm, although I knew that she was still hurting. The break had been pretty sudden and she and Dave had been dating since we were juniors in high school.

Sabrina squealed, "Fucking duh! Let's take shots!"

"_Ob_viously. First things first, though. Claire, what are you wearing? We're going to a club downtown, not a house party," Ali said. She was always pushing me to be riskier with what I wore.

"I'm comfortable!" I protested.

Ali pulled a shirt out of my closet. It was a flowy lace tanktop in dark blue that I had impulse purchased on our last shopping excursion downtown. "This is what you should wear."

I begrudgingly put it on. Damn it. She was right. It looked great, but still classy.

Sabrina was already pouring out shots for us. I wasn't a huge drinker, normally only having a beer or two at parties where I felt comfortable. I was too wary about what had happened to Darcy to let my guard down easily. Luckily, Sabrina's rhinestone encrusted iPhone let out a shrill ring, sparing me from making an awkward excuse to avoid the vodka.

"Are you guys here?" Sabrina answered. "Yay! It's my birthdayyyy!"

The rest of the group exploded into the room. Soon, my tiny dorm room was overwhelmed with the smell of alcohol, music blasting, and screams of encouragement for just one more birthday shot. Ali was hanging right with Sabrina, matching her drink for drink. Finally, the cab came and we were on our way to VooDoo.

Inside, the club was packed. Sabrina and her friends instantly headed to the dance floor, which was throbbing with revelers grinding their sweaty bodies against one another. _How can anyone do that with complete strangers? _I wondered. Ali grabbed my hand. She might have been drunk but we had a code – we stick together and look out for one another.

"Wanna get a drink?" she shouted in my ear, trying to be heard over the thumping bass.

I nodded my head, not out of any real desire to go to the bar, but I refused to be separated from my best friend. We wove through the crowd, snaking in between gyrating couples passionately making out, before reaching the bar.

"One Mindprobe!" Alli yelled the bartender, flashing her biggest smile and leaning down on the bar so he could get a glimpse of her cleavage. He instantly began making her drink, setting two down in front of her.

"One for you and one for your friend," he grinned. "On the house."

Alli giggled her thanks. "And _that_ is how you do things right," she said to me.

I rolled my eyes for what felt like the thousandth time that night. "Alli, you know I don't drink hard liquor. Especially at clubs."

"Clare, I swear to God, you need to loosen up sometimes. It's one drink. We'll go sit at that booth and drink them so we won't get separated."

Reluctantly, I agreed. We found a big booth that allowed for an excellent view of the dance floor. I could see Sabrina's birthday crown sparkling in the center of the dance floor. She was swaying with a really gross guy that she probably found attractive in her drunken state, but she would definitely be unpleasantly surprised tomorrow.

As I observed, I took a casual sip of my Mindprobe.

"This is delicious!" I exclaimed.

Ali laughed. "I know, right?"

As the evening progressed, we talked about our respective weeks. Even though we had been friends forever and were together constantly, sometimes it felt like we never just got to hang out and talk since we were both so busy with school. Ali relayed the newest Dave drama, saying that he kept calling her late at night while he was drunk but would have nothing to do with her sober. In turn, I told her about how Eli Goldsworthy, of all people, was my writing partner. As we chatted, our one drink quickly turned to two. The music didn't seem as mind-numbingly loud now; instead, it felt infectious.

I turned to Ali. "Let's dance!"

"Really?" she squealed. She grabbed my hand and led me to the center of the dance floor, where Sabrina and her flock were dancing.

I closed my eyes, letting my body just move like it wanted to. I could see then why people liked to drink. I wasn't self-conscious about my body and dancing for once. I stuck with Ali, my preferred dance partner, even though we were both approached several times. After a half hour, my feet were killing me and I was drenched in sweat. I jabbed my finger towards the bar to let Ali know I was getting some water and she nodded her head.

I tried to get off the dance floor as gracefully as possible, although I kept stumbling into people. As I turned to offer my most apologetic smile to a girl whose toes I had trampled, I rammed into someone hard.

"Oh my gosh. I am so sorry!" I slurred.

"Ah, don't worry about it Edwards. Glad to see you're having some fun," a familiar voice answered.

As I looked up, I saw Eli Goldsworthy's green eyes staring at me.

I gave Eli a huge hug. "Eli!"

"Wooooah, Edwards, calm down. I'm guessing you've had a little too much to drink. Are you feeling okay?" Eli smirked at me.

"I feel great! Thank you so much for helping me with my writing, Eli. I worked really hard on my piece today! I know I have been mean to you and I'm so sorry," I blathered. "Sooooooooooo sorry."

Eli just laughed. "You're even a nice drunk, Edwards. Let's get you some water and sit down somewhere."

We edged our way over to a booth, the same one where Ali and I had sat what seemed like hours ago. "Stay right here," instructed Eli. "I'll be right back."

I nodded and closed my eyes, resting my head against the wood paneling of the booth. Suddenly I felt so tired. Only seconds later, I felt a tap at my shoulder. "That was fast," I said without opening my eyes. I felt Eli slide into the booth next to me and the clink of the glass being set on the table. I rested my head on Eli's shoulder and grabbed his hand. "Thank you so much."

"If I had known this was the reception I would get, I would have tried this much sooner," a voice that was decidedly not Eli's responded.

I bolted upright. Sitting in Eli's place was a boy I recognized from somewhere but couldn't quite place in my tipsy state. He was tall, with blue eyes and sandy hair, but his name escaped me.

"Um, sorry, I forget your name," I said, embarrassed.

The boy laughed. "Just my luck. Mark Fitzgerald, remember? From the Christian youth group?"

"Oh yeah, of course. How is your night going?" I asked politely, trying to be as coherent as possible.

Mark smiled down at me. "Much better now that I've seen you. I got you a drink."

I looked at the glass warily. "Is it a Mindprobe?"

"Oh no, nothing like that," he laughed. "This is way different. Less alcohol."

Even though I knew I shouldn't, I found myself accepting the drink. Before I knew it, the drink was three-fourths of the way gone and I was sitting on Mark's lap. I felt almost detached from myself as I nestled against Mark. I brought the glass to my lips, but in a sloppy moment spilled all over myself. The drink made my lace top completely sheer in places, where you could clearly see my black bra.

"This is so embarrassing," I said, halfheartedly trying to clean myself up, but also not really caring. My head was spinning and Mark felt so strong behind me. "Did I get you wet? I'm so wet. I'm sooooo wet." My tongue was thick in my mouth.

"It's okay," Mark whispered into my ear. "I like you better this way." He traced the outline of my bra through my shirt where the liquid had made it visible. Instead of being shocked and pushing him away, the sensation felt warm against my skin. I slowly looked at him, parting my lips. Mark grabbed my chest more firmly this time, kissing me aggressively. I turned in his lap, straddling him in order to get closer. I felt like I was floating.

"Mark," I said, "I feel dizzy."

"Can I take you home?" he asked.

I nodded once, slumping against his neck. And then I passed out.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

_Author's Note: Thank you so much for reading my story! It really means a lot to me, especially since this is my first one ever. I would like to warn you that there is mature content in this chapter. While I have tried to keep it as tasteful as possible, it is important to the story's development and, therefore, impossible to leave out. _

When I woke up, I could feel it was early. My head was throbbing and my mouth was so dry that my tongue was plastered to its roof, but I couldn't move it. The room was strangely quiet. Not even Sabrina's normal light snores filled our tiny shared space. Slowly, I opened one eye and immediately squeezed it tight again. The sunlight streaming into my room was blinding. I rolled over onto my stomach, intending to sleep until my alarm went off, when my shoulder bumped into something solid in my bed. Something warm.

Suddenly, I was extremely awake. I bolted upright and looked over to see Eli Goldsworthy's form lying in bed next to me. I felt like I was going to vomit. Running my fingers through my hair, which in the best case scenario be could called an extreme case of bed head, I noticed for the first time what I was wearing – a black Dead Hand t-shirt. And only a t-shirt. My bra and underwear were completely gone and I was practically naked in an almost-stranger's bed.

I started to hyperventilate. I combed through my thoughts, trying to remember what circumstances could have led me here, into Eli's bed. I remembered the bright lights of VooDoo, drinking a Mindprobe with Ali, and dancing. And then… nothing. I couldn't remember a single thing. I could have stripped on the dance floor for all the memory I had.

_I have to leave,_ the thought seized me. I didn't normally swear, but a thousand of the strongest cuss words imaginable were running through my head, including how the fuck I could get out of here without anyone noticing that I was virtually wearing a t-shirt and nothing else. Thankfully, the t-shirt fell to almost my knees, disguising my present condition but not helping to ease the shame I felt coursing through my body. _Did I sleep with Eli?_ I thought with horror. I looked around the bed for a condom wrapper or some other indicator. I might not be experienced, but I wasn't completely naïve. Ali Bhendari was my best friend, after all, and one of the things she was famous for was her penchant for over-sharing. Thankfully, I saw nothing.

I tried to creep out of bed without stirring Eli. If I was lucky, he had been as drunk as I was and wouldn't even remember my presence. Unfortunately, I was pressed in between the wall and Eli's slumbering body. I awkwardly attempted to climb over him without giving him a show. _Unless you already did that_, the unpleasant thought crossed my mind. Hurriedly, I exited the bed and proceeded to search for my underwear, purse, and phone.

When I found them piled by the door leading to the bathroom, I quickly put them on under the t-shirt. My bra had somehow snagged in the middle of the night, completely tearing off one of the clasps. I checked my phone. I had 13 texts and six missed calls from Ali and another text from an unknown number. I opened it, looking for some clue of what might have transpired the previous night.

_2 bad u left. We were just starting 2 have fun ;)_

My stomach clenched and I rushed to the toilet, throwing up all the contents of my stomach. Who was this person that had texted me and what exactly did "fun" mean? Somehow I had a feeling that it didn't mean a stimulating conversation about dorm life or British gothic literature.

Hot tears began to streak down my face as I threw up again. When I glanced up, I saw Eli's concerned face looking down at me. I noticed his lip was cut and he had dark circles around his eyes.

"Are you okay?" he gently asked, his voice filled with compassion. "Can I get you some water?"

I pushed back my tears angrily. "No, I am not okay. I woke up almost naked in your bed when I barely know you, and I can't remember anything from last night. How did I get here?"

"You don't remember anything? Do you remember seeing me? Or _Fitz_?" His tone turned disgusted as he said the last name. "Shit, Edwards."

"What is that supposed to mean? I saw you?" I said, panicked. "Who is Fitz?" I was still slumped against the toilet, using it to support me.

"Mark Fitzgerald? Tall with brown hair? Total douchebag?" Eli replied.

I recognized the name now. "Oh yeah. He's in my youth group here. So what happened?"

He took my hand and pulled me up. "Let's go sit down somewhere comfortable first."

Eli led me to his bed and then sat in his desk chair across from me, taking a deep breath. "Last night, I ran into you at VooDoo on the dance floor. You were pretty drunk, but seemed okay. Just tipsy. We went to a booth and I left you to go grab some water. When I came back, you were sitting on Fitz's lap making out with him. It looked like you had had another drink."

He paused for a second, letting me absorb the information. I clutched one of Eli's pillows to my chest, feeling my stomach sink with dread. "Is that all? We were just kissing?"

Eli hesitated. "Not exactly. I went back to check on you ten minutes later. Fitz and I aren't exactly friendly, but you had seemed pretty happy with him. You were passed out and he was carrying you, saying that he was taking you home."

Once again he stopped.

"Okay?" I said slowly, not really understanding. "How did I end up here then?"

"You know how in Beal it's all single rooms? So a bathroom connects two guys' bedrooms?" Eli said, referring to his dorm. Beal was an all-male dorm that all the UT boys wanted to be placed in because of its large rooms and the lack of communal bathrooms, as well as its proximity to the cafeteria. "Well, Fitz and I share a bathroom. Normally we lock our bedroom doors that lead into the bathroom, because, like I said, we aren't friends. But last night he left his open. And I saw you in his room."

I gasped. Tears openly streamed down my face.

"Do you want me to keep going?" Eli asked quietly.

I nodded my head. "I need to know."

"Okay, just tell me if you want to me stop. So, when I saw you in there, I walked into Fitz' room. You were just lying on his bed and he was on top of you, trying to take off your underwear and he was, uh, touching you."

I inhaled quickly. This was my worst nightmare coming true. I had repeated Darcy's awful incident, the one that had scarred her from ever living a normal life and sent her running to Kenya. "Where?"

Eli looked uncomfortable, but he answered me. "Um, your chest."

My broken bra clasp had suddenly taken on a darker meaning that just a simple drunken night.

Eli continued, "You weren't even moving. I yelled at Fitz and told him to stop. He didn't, so I pushed him off of you. When I picked you up, Fitz punched me, but I brought you back in here. I thought it was better to be in here than in Fitz' room. Now I'm glad I did, since you don't seem to know what happened."

I pressed my face into the pillow. "I don't remember! I don't remember anything!" I sobbed into it. I felt strange mixture of relief, that I didn't drunkenly lose my virginity, and horror that something like this even happened to me. I had always been so careful about my drinking. Now, in one night, I almost had sex with a total stranger and both he and my English partner had seen me naked because of alcohol.

The bed sunk down as Eli came to sit next to me. He gently stroked my back. "Clare," he soothed. "It wasn't your fault. I think you were drugged. How many drinks did you have?"

"Two that I remember," I said, still not looking up. His hand continued to run up and down my back, relaxing me.

"Most likely, that's not enough for you to not remember anything and to go unconscious," Eli replied, still keeping his voice quiet. "I think you should go to the hospital to get tested for roofies. You were almost date raped."

At that hard, awful word – _rape_ – I stood up. "No," I said in a stronger voice than I felt. "I'm not going. It was my fault for getting out of control."

Eli ran his hand through his thick black hair. "Edwards, it wasn't your fault. These drugs are specifically designed to incapacitate girls."

"Would I be able to prove that it was Fitz who gave them to me?" I asked.

He shook his head. "But _you_ would know."

I stood there in the middle of Eli's room, still wearing the Dead Hand t-shirt. I thought about Darcy, how she hadn't known what had happened to her and the guilt and shame she had felt. At the time, I believed that she was letting one arbitrary event ruin her life, but now I understood better. I hadn't had been raped, but I still felt incredibly violated.

"Okay," I said. "Okay." I would do it for Darcy.

…..

After we went to the emergency room, all I wanted to do was go home, shower, and change into fresh clothes. Eli had managed to sneak into Fitz' room and retrieve my jeans, although he had been unable to find my shirt. Instead, I had glamorously worn Eli's t-shirt tucked into my jeans and a pair of his slippers, since I flat out refused to wear heels at 7:30 in the morning.

"I can't believe that you have slippers," I had teased when he had given them to me. "And they aren't even black."

Eli had looked surprised that I was able to joke around after our serious talk, but had smirked at me. "Well, I make an exception for gifts from my mom."

"So you guys are pretty close?" I had asked, thinking of my own complicated relationship with my mother.

"Oh yeah. Cece and Bullfrog – my parents – are great. We've gone through some tough stuff together, but they've always had my back."

Driving back from the hospital now, I smiled at the thought of our conversation. Who would have guessed that Eli Goldsworthy, the moodiest, most death-obsessed boy at Degrassi, would be incredibly close with his parents? He was completely different than I had thought. Eli had waited outside my examination room patiently as I was tested for any drugs and given a pelvic exam, coming in to hold my hand when the doctor told me that there was no sign of internal trauma. The test results would be ready in two days.

When Eli pulled in front of my dorm, I thanked him profusely. "Thank you so much for everything, Eli. I feel so much better now knowing that Fitz didn't…you know."

"It's not a big deal, Edwards," he replied. "I'm glad that I could help my favorite English partner."

"It is a big deal," I insisted. "You have no idea how much this means to me."

My blue eyes met his green ones steadily for several seconds, before I blushed and looked away.

"Well, I'll see you in an hour," said Eli.

"What?"

"Class, remember?"

Oh right. Class.

…..…

I took a long shower, trying to force out all thoughts of the previous night. The steaming water unknotted my back, and by the time the water turned lukewarm, I was almost feeling relaxed. Even though something horrible had almost happened, the important thing was that it ultimately hadn't. I wrapped my towel around me for the walk back to my dorm room, praying that Sabrina would still be gone.

Unfortunately, my prayers weren't answered. Even though it was still early, Sabrina was brushing her long hair when I returned, proudly wearing a guy's sweatpants that I assumed were from last night's conquest.

"Clare! Where did you go last night? We HAVE to recap!" Sabrina shouted excitedly when I entered.

I felt sick again. Every knot that I thought I had soothed, every thought I had pushed out of my head came ricocheting back. "Um, nothing exciting. I got a little too drunk so I left," I evaded.

"Oh please," said Sabrina. "I saw you hooking up with this totally hot guy."

Clad only in my towel, I felt extremely vulnerable. "Yeah, like I said, I got a little too drunk. Nothing happened between us."

I hurried into my corner of the room, turning my back to Sabrina so I could quickly get dressed semi-privately. "Whatever you say, Clare," Sabrina giggled.

I definitely wasn't about to tell Sabrina, the most gossipy person I had ever met, the sordid details of my night. All I wanted to do was run from the room and to English class, but I knew that Sabrina would take my quick exit as an admission of guilt. Instead, I asked about her night, nodding faux-enthusiastically when she told me about her "totally hot man-candy."

When I could take it no more, I grabbed my paper from where it was sitting on my desk. "I gotta go to class. Talk to you later!" I said.

As I crossed campus to the English classroom, I was high alert for Fitz. Unfortunately, I had virtually no memory of what he had looked like last night, so I had to rely on fuzzy recollections from youth group. My heart stopped every time I saw someone who vaguely looked like him. My phone beeped with a text from Ali, distracting me from my pointless search.

_Clare, where are you? I am seriously starting to get worried!_

Oops. I had completely forgotten to respond to her messages.

_Sorry, sorry! I'm totally fine. I'll talk to you after class._

I still hadn't decided to whether or not I was going to tell Ali about the Fitz incident. On one hand, she was my best friend and would be extremely supportive of me. But on the other, I didn't want anyone else to know what had happened to me. Even though I knew it wasn't my fault, I felt so demeaned and embarrassed.

When I reached English, there were only a few people there, including Eli. He looked over his shoulder at me, his eyes softening with sympathy. Suddenly, I couldn't stand to be around him after what had happened. I didn't want his sympathy or his pity or his all too intimate knowledge of what had transpired.

I approached Professor Dawes' desk. "Professor?" I almost whispered. "I'm not feeling too well, so I don't think I should stay. I just wanted to make sure I turned in my paper."

"Okay, Clare," said Professor Dawes. "Thank you for telling me. Please feel better."

I nodded with relief. I was lucky that Professor Dawes was so understanding; I knew many professors at UT wouldn't allow students to turn in assignments if they were absent from class the day it was due.

"See you Monday, Professor," I said, fleeing the classroom.

As I walked into the fresh Toronto sunshine, I didn't know where to go. Students bustled to classes or sat in the quad with their friends, enjoying the magnificent early autumn weather, but right now I had no one that could truly understand how I felt. Despite being at one of the largest universities in the country, I had never felt so completely and startlingly alone.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Even though Toronto University was located in the heart of the sprawling city, there were still some beautiful parks nearby. To clear my head after such a horrible morning, I decided to walk through McGrary Park, which had gorgeous trails. Some of my happiest childhood memories were here – my dad would always take Darcy and me on long hikes during the weekend. Darcy would always complain about bugs at first, but soon she and I would be racing in front of Dad, looking for different types of animals. Afterwards, Mom would meet us for a big picnic by the playground and we would feed the geese our leftovers.

I wandered aimlessly around the park for a while. I loved people watching. Sometimes, during creative writing class, our class would travel to different places around the city for inspiration and Julia and I would play the "people game." We would take turns picking out a person and then make up their complete life story, finishing with how they had ended up in that particular place. Some of the funniest characters in our stories came from these imaginary lives we created. I still played the game now and then, but it wasn't the same without someone to bounce outlandish ideas off of.

Eventually, I headed towards my favorite trail. It was the most difficult of the three at McGrary, filled with steep hills, but also had the most spectacular views of the city. Not surprisingly for a weekday morning, the trail was almost completely empty, but it gave me peace of mind to know I was by myself. There was a keen difference between being alone and being lonely, and it was the matter of choice. The hike seemed more difficult than I remembered – the freshman fifteen was an all too real phenomena – but I finally reached my favorite vantage point. I sat down on the bench, closing my eyes and tilting my face toward the sun.

I dozed off in the warm morning air, waking when the aroma of marijuana suddenly filled the air. Turning to see who the offender was, I saw a boy that I had seen around in my dorm but had never met, perched beside me on the bench.

"Oh good. You're awake," the boy said.

"Uh, excuse me?"

"Yeah," he replied. "I was scared you might be dead and I didn't want to, you know, deal with that."

I laughed, hoping that he was joking.

"Clare," I introduced myself.

"Jake." I extended my hand for him to shake, but instead of accepting it, he handed me his piece.

"Want a hit?" Jake asked.

I shook my head, giving it back to him. While weed was certainly common in college and I had several friends who smoked it, I had never had any desire to use it. I had enough issues already without adding a drug dependency. Jake shrugged and then dumped the remains out of the bowl, putting it in his backpack.

"So, Clare, what brings you here?"

"Just needed to clear my head," I hedged. "It's been a long day."

"And it's only 11:30! Must have been some morning."

"You have no idea," I sighed.

Jake looked at me intently, like he had some words of wisdom to impart. "Okay. So….what do you think would be the worst Olympic sport ever? I have given this some deep consideration and have decided upon leisurely strolling."

"What?" I was so confused.

"C'mon, Clare. Whenever you feel bad, you can't think about it or it'll drive you crazy. So you have to think about something weird to get your mind off of it. Hence, what would be the worst Olympic sport?"

I laughed again. Jake was so sweet. I had only met him five minutes ago and he was already trying to cheer me up. "I don't know… maybe pogo stick jumping?"

"What?" Jake exclaimed. "You're killing me, Clare. Think of the drama that would bring. The old veteran with his traditional wooden stick competing against the up-and-comer with the newest pogo technology! A test of tradition versus technology!"

And we were off. Jake and I sat there for hours, talking about the most absurd things. I couldn't remember the last time I had laughed so much and, considering the circumstances, it was truly incredible that I completely forgot about what had brought me to McGrary Park. Jake was just so friendly. Even though we had met in an admittedly bizarre way, he didn't creep me out in any way. I could see us definitely becoming friends.

Finally, I decided that I should probably go. I knew Ali would want to talk to me about last night and, even though I still wasn't sure what to tell her, I wanted some quality time with my best friend. I was right; Jake did live in the same dorm, so we walked back together. When we got to the entrance, Jake patted me on the shoulder.

"Take it easy, Clare. We'll be hanging out soon," he said, before enveloping me in a massive hug.

"Bye!" I waved, before continuing down the hall, reaching into my pocket to check my texts.

_Dinner tonight? Need to talk to you about something! 3_ From Ali.

_Clare, I haven't heard from you in a week. Please give me the courtesy of a call._ Ugh, my mother.

_It's Eli. What happened in class? Are you okay? Call me. _I couldn't deal with Eli right now, not after this morning.

_babe r u free lets finish wat we started ;) u no where i live _The unknown number and disgusting grammar – I hated texting shorthand – made me feel sick again. I deleted the text quickly, as if that would also delete the existence of last night.

I looked up from my phone when I reached my room, jumping when I realized Eli was sitting in front of my door.

"Eli!" I exclaimed with surprise. "What are you doing here?"

He stood up quickly. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay. You ran out of class."

"Yeah, I needed a mental health day," I shrugged. "But I'm feeling better now."

"Are you sure?" Eli seemed unconvinced. "If you need anything…"

I was both flattered and annoyed at Eli's behavior. It was nice that someone was looking out for me, but at the same time, I didn't want a babysitter. Eli kept staring at me like I was going to burst into tears at a drop of a hat, and, though I was certainly upset, I was determined that this incident wouldn't ruin my first semester at college.

"Trust me. I'm fine. But thank you." I gave Eli a nod, hoping he would go away now so I could call Ali.

To my frustration, he lingered as I unlocked my door. Thankfully, Sabrina was gone. He stepped in my room, at clear odds in his all black clothes with all of the bright colors. I felt self-conscious as he examined my half of the dorm, looking at my books and pictures.

"I love Chuck Palahniuk," he said. "I'm surprised you have so many of his books."

I shrugged my shoulders. "My friend got me really into him."

"Same," he replied. "I had only read _Fight Club_, but she made me realize that I was missing out on some great books by limiting myself."

I smiled at Eli. I loved how we could talk about books – none of my other friends shared my passion for literature.

"Finally! A smile!" Eli said.

I laughed. "What?"

"You've been giving me weird looks since class this morning. I thought you were starting to hate me or something."

I sighed. "It's not you. It's just so embarrassing that you saw me in such a vulnerable position. And I don't even know what happened, so I'm imagining the worst whenever I see you."

"Hey," Eli said softly. "I don't want you to be upset when we hang out."

I shook my head. "I just don't know what to do."

"Well, I do," he replied, his green eyes glimmering. "We have to hang out a lot to replace those bad memories with good ones."

He seemed sincere. Eli had been nothing but kind to me, even though he barely knew me.

"Sounds good to me."

"Grrrrrrrrrrrrreat!" Eli shouted, rolling his R with exaggerated enthusiasm. It always took me by surprise when he was silly because he seemed so intimidating and serious at first.

"Oh, and before I forget," he added, "Dawes loved your piece. She wants to publish it in the English department bulletin this weekend and told me to ask you if that's okay."

I hesitated. This was a big step. It had taken me a lot to write that piece about my mom, even with the few simple additions I had made, and I had only intended for Eli and Professor Dawes to read it. However, college was all about pushing my boundaries and I had decided that I would be more adventurous with my writing.

"Okay," I said slowly. "That would be fine."

Eli seemed surprised. He had clearly expected that he would have to convince me. "Awesome. I'll tell her when I meet her this afternoon to talk about _Death of an Angel._"

"How is that going?" I asked. "I never saw Chapter 3."

"I've run into a bit of a hiccup," Eli responded. "You know how sometimes you have a plan for a story but it keeps getting off track?" I nodded. "That's what's happening. A peripheral character keeps taking over and I can't tell if it's in a good way or not."

"Why don't we work on it this weekend?" I suggested. I was eager to talk to someone about writing, especially if for once it wasn't about my own struggles.

Eli smiled at me. To my internal embarrassment, my stomach fluttered a little. "That would be great, Edwards. I'll text you, okay?"

He gave me a parting hug that was maybe a little longer than totally necessary. When he was gone, I sank onto my bed, wondering what I had gotten myself into with Eli Goldsworthy."

…

"So let me get this straight," Ali said, swallowing fries at a lightning speed in the cafeteria. I would never understand how such a tiny girl could eat so much. "When I was briefly reuniting with Dave the Douchebag, you were getting drugged and mauled by a guy in your Christian group?"

I winced. "Pretty much." I had decided to tell Ali about the events of last night. This was too big of a secret to keep to myself and I knew I would feel better if I had the support of my best friend. Darcy had gone crazy trying to keep her date rape to herself. Although I understood her reasoning, I didn't want to make the same mistake.

"And Eli Goldsworthy, the goth weirdo from high school, saved your ass?" Ali questioned.

"I wouldn't call him a goth weirdo."

Ali shook her fry in the air. "Semantics."

I shook my head good-naturedly. Ali was blunt and could be abrasive at times, but she was loyal, caring, and would always have my back.

"And I thought my night was a disaster," Ali said with a sigh. "I still can't believe that Dave asked me to get back together and I said _yes._ And then this morning he said it was a drunken mistake."

"Boys suck," I agreed, grateful that Ali was changing the subject from my own drama.

Suddenly, I felt hands squeeze my shoulders. "I thought we agreed today that I don't suck?"

Turning around, I saw Jake grinning down at me. "Oh, hi!" I said, smiling up at him. "You can be the one exception, I guess."

"Well, that's good for my self-esteem," Jake joked.

"Do you want to join us?" I asked. Ali widened her eyes at me, a sign that she was going to interrogate me as soon as Jake was gone.

"Nah, I just finished eating with my buddies," Jake said. "Next time though. I just wanted to say hi."

I waved goodbye and continued eating my parfait as if nothing happened. I knew Ali was dying to know who Jake was. Sure enough, as soon as he was out of earshot, she squealed, "Who was that Clare? And how have I never met him before?"

By the time I was done explaining how we had met, Ali was practically drooling. "He's so sweet. And definitely hot. And he seems pretty into you, if he's already stopping by just to say _hi_."

"We are definitely going to be friends. And just friends," I said decisively. "I think I've had enough problems with boys in the past 24 hours to last me a lifetime. A convent may be the answer."

"Clare, you can't joke about becoming a nun when your nickname is Saint Clare. People are going to think you're serious," Ali giggled.

Ali and I spent the next hour joking around and making plans for this weekend. We both decided after our eventful Thursday night, we were going to keep a low profile for a while. A movie night and a Saturday writing with Eli sounded like the perfect weekend to me.

…

To my disappointment, however, Eli and I never hung out. I was surprised, especially since he had seemed so vehement about spending time together. I wondered if, after all his talk about how I needed to share my writing, he wasn't ready to share his own. In any case, I was eager to see him in English on Monday morning. I tried to tell myself that it was only because he was a good writing partner, not because of any other feelings that I may have had. The one small mercy of the weekend was that I hadn't received any more texts from Fitz.

I was walking to class when my phone rang. "Hello?"

"Clare Edwards? This is Susan, from the University of Toronto Hospital, with your test results."

"Oh, hi," I responded nervously.

"You tested negative for Ketamine, negative for GHB, and positive for Rohypnol," Susan told me.

"What does that mean?" I asked, even though I already knew the answer.

"Rohypnol is a colorless, odorless, tasteless drug," Susan explained matter-of-factly. "It's becoming more and more common at universities because of its effectiveness as a date rape drug. When you consume it, you may have problems talking, difficulty with motor movements, a loss of consciousness, dizziness, or nausea. Did any of these things happen to you?"

I nod, and then realize she can't see me through the phone. "Yes," I whisper.

"If you didn't willingly take it, there is a strong probability someone intentionally drugged you," Susan said, sounding more sympathetic. "I strongly suggest talking to the campus police department or university services if something happened while you were under the influence."

"Thank you," I said in a small voice before hanging up.

I didn't want to go to class anymore, but after ditching on Friday, I knew that skipping wasn't an option. Susan's words had brought back the terrible memories of Friday morning that I had managed to shove out of my thoughts all weekend. Besides, I decided, the best thing to do was to stay busy so I couldn't wallow in my thoughts. With that in mind, I marched determinedly towards English.

When I arrived, Eli wasn't there yet, so I sat next to the desk he normally occupied. A copy of the English bulletin was sitting on every desk in class. Every two weeks, the English department published a faculty piece and a few student works, along with information about upcoming events, like author signings or poetry slams. The bulletin was distributed all over campus. I tingled with excitement when I realized how many students would be reading my piece.

I opened through the bulletin, reading my bio on the inside cover. "_An outstanding freshman writer from Toronto, Clare Edwards has distinguished herself in English 298 by writing personal pieces about family. In her free time, she enjoys reading, hiking, and, of course, writing. Her poem on page 7 is about her family's struggle to recover from a traumatic event."_

I frowned. A poem about a traumatic event? My piece was an essay about my relationship with my mother, not a traumatic event. With dawning horror, I flipped to page seven. "Darcy's Poem," read the title. "By Clare Edwards."

A knot formed in my stomach. _How could this have happened?_ I thought back. I had printed out both pieces on Thursday afternoon and sat them on my desk. When I returned to my dorm on Friday morning, I must have grabbed the wrong one in my haste to escape Sabrina. And then in class, I turned in my paper and left before realizing my mistake.

_Oh my gosh._ I couldn't stop hyperventilating. Not only was that piece for my eyes only, it was written about Darcy's date rape from her perspective. Before Thursday night, I had thought that the first-person viewpoint made the experience seem more raw and real. But now, I was aghast at that the poem could be interpreted as an event from my own past. It hit a little too close to home.

No wonder Eli had seemed so surprised when I had so quickly agreed to publishing my work in the bulletin. He must have read it Friday in class. The only blessing was that, on the other side of the world, Darcy would never know how I had blatantly violated her privacy. I had aired to UT's student population of 20,000 the secret that had driven her to Kenya.

On top of the test results I had received, it was too much for a Monday morning.

Eli slid into the seat next to me. "Hey Clare."

He took one look at me, holding the bulletin open to the page with my poem on it. My lower lip was trembling and my eyes were welling with tears.

"Oh shit," he said.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

**Note: Hello! Sorry for the delay. I have been crazy busy this summer and I somehow have more time to write during the school year since I'm always trying to procrastinate. Updates might be a little slow (since it's taken me literally four months to write one chapter) but I will definitely finish this story!**

"It's okay," I said to Eli softly and taking a big breath, still holding the bulletin. "It's okay. I wanted to share my work. This is just a little more personal than I was expecting." I was trying to convince myself more than him, but the deep breathing was actually soothing me.

Eli looked surprised. "Are you sure?"

"Yep," I said tightly. This was not going to ruin my day, not after the already stressful news I had heard earlier. I tipped my head back, refusing to let any tears fall. Once I knew I had control of myself, I looked at Eli and smiled. "How was your weekend?"

"It was good," he replied. "Great, even. I got a lot of writing done."

"Yeah, I know you said you wanted to wrap up the third chapter of _Death of an Angel._ Am I ever going to be able to read this thing?" I said jokingly.

Eli's eyes widened. "Oh shit, Edwards. We were supposed to write together this weekend, weren't we?"

I waved my hand in the air. "It's not a big deal." I had been annoyed and a little hurt, but compared to my Monday morning, being blown off was nothing.

"Well, I need to make it up to you," he said, slowly smiling. "And I have an idea."

I opened my mouth to respond, but Professor Dawes walked in the room. "What is _drama_?" she announced theatrically. I rolled my eyes. Drama. I could never escape it, even in class.

…..

After class was over, Eli and I strolled through the quad, talking about our new assignment. We had to use an event in our life to create a dramatic piece, writing either a poem, short play, or letter. Forget a short paper or a single event, I could write a freaking novel about my personal drama.

"What are you going to write?" Eli asked.

"I don't know. Probably a letter. A play seems like too much work and a poem – well, you saw what happened with my last poem."

Eli smirked at me. "It was good, though. At least you didn't publish something personal that was also complete shit."

I laughed. "Well, thanks for that."

"Heads up!" A loud, familiar voice yelled as a Frisbee whizzed centimeters away from my head. I squealed and ducked, only to see Jake lumber up.

"Hey, Clare. Sorry about that," he apologized sheepishly.

I laughed again. "It's okay."

"Do you guys wanna join us?" Jake pointed to two boys he had been throwing the disc with.

"I don't think you want to throw with me," I joked. "Frisbee is not a skill I possess."

Eli cleared his throat and I realized I was being rude. "I'm sorry! Jake, this is my friend Eli from English. Eli, this is Jake. We met the other day."

Jake reached out his hand to shake Eli's. "Nice to meet you, man."

"Yeah, you too," Eli replied. As they exchanged pleasantries, I couldn't help but notice the physical difference between the two. Jake was tall and tan from the sun and had one of the worst haircuts I had ever seen. Eli, on the other hand, was dressed in his usual all black and was wirier than Jake.

We waved goodbye Jake, who jogged back to his friend, Frisbee in hand. I sighed with relief that I had escaped the curse of the Frisbee so easily – although a majority of my good friends in high school were more academic than athletic, they shared a love of Frisbee and a determination to teach me the game's finer points. I smiled at the memory of KC's frustrated face when, after being coached for 20 minutes on throwing technique, I had promptly hurled the Frisbee into the branches of a tree.

Eli bumped my shoulder with his, pulling me out of my reverie. "Someone is awfully smiley," he teased. "Got a crush?" Did I notice an underlying tone of jealousy in his voice? Or was I just hoping it was there?

I snorted. "Oh, no. Jake is just a friend. I was remembering high school."

"Ugh, high school," Eli shivered melodramatically. "Why would you ever think about that awful place with a _smile_?"

I play-shoved him off the path we shared.

"Wow, Edwards, that show of physicality was really intimidating," Eli drawled.

I flexed my bicep playfully, not that he could see it through my sweater. "I've been hitting the weights."

When we reached my dorm, I swerved off from the path. "This is me. I'll catch you later."

Eli grabbed my hand as I was leaving. "Hey, Clare, you were really cool today. Not freaking out about your poem or anything else."

I half-smiled. His green eyes were intent on mine, and I felt a slow heat burn my cheeks as we continued staring at each other. "Thanks, Eli," I said softly, not breaking eye contact.

He squeezed my hand tightly, just long enough for me to miss his touch when he let go. "I'll see you soon," he said, gazing down at me. "I haven't forgotten about giving you your surprise."

Then he turned and walked away, leaving me with a warm hand and more than a bit of a crush.

"And then he sent his friend to my room to make sure I wouldn't tell anyone about what happened Thursday night!" Ali scoffed at lunch.

I rolled my eyes obligingly, knowing that was the reaction she wanted. I loved Ali and all, but, honestly, this was the third time she had told this story about Dave. I knew she was upset, but you couldn't blame me if, after a year and a half of their on-again-off-again relationship, I started to take less of an interest.

"It'll be okay, Ali," I said in a sympathetic tone. "We're freshman on a huge campus. There are so many boys here that are way better than Dave."

Ali winked at me. "I know you've been scoping them out. Who do you like better – Jake or Eli?" She pushed her cafeteria tray aside and leaned over the table on her elbows, like I was about to tell her the meaning of life.

"No, seriously," she persisted, after I laughed at her earnest expression.

"Well, first of all, I'm just friends with both of them," I said. Ali had a tendency to assume that I was in love with every boy I talked to. "But they are so different. Jake is really goofy and funny. Eli is more serious and I love that I can talk to him about my writing."

"Clare, we've only been here a few days and you've already met two cute boys. What is the point of even talking to them if you only want to be _friends_?" Ali said "friends" like it was a dirty word.

A few days? Was that really all? Between the situation with Fitz and my poem and all my classes, I felt like I had already been here for an eternity.

Before I could reply, Eli plopped down next to me with his tray, slinging his backpack into the chair on his other side. "Hey Edwards," he said and nodded at Ali, who promptly wiggled her eyebrows at me.

"Got to go to class. Have fun, you two," she singsonged. What a liar. She didn't even have any more classes today.

Normally, I would have felt awkward being left alone with a boy I had just met, but Eli was different. We always had plenty to talk about, from class to writing to what events on campus we wanted to go to. Eli advised me on which English classes he really enjoyed last year and what the easiest math and science classes that fulfilled the dreaded UT requirements were.

"Trust me," he said, taking a sip of his coffee, "You do not want to take Geology."

"What would even possess you to take that class?" I was amazed to hear myself giggle. I was SO not a giggler.

"I thought it would be looking at rocks! Like how hard can rocks be? Apparently really fucking hard!"

I laughed again, before glancing at my watch. I had another class in ten minutes. "I better go," I said regretfully. Hanging out with Eli had been the best part of my day – he hadn't brought up the poem or the Fitz incident once.

"Okay," he said. "Hey, are you free tomorrow night?"

I tried to ignore the butterflies in my stomach. _Friends_, I reminded myself before answering. "Yeah, I think so. Why?"

"I told you – we need to write together since I was a huge ass this weekend. I'll come to your dorm at eight?"

"Sounds good," I replied, trying to sound nonchalant. "Okay, now I really have to go. I'm going to be late. I'll see you tomorrow!"

As I hurried out of the cafeteria, Eli called after me. "Can't wait!"

And, for the first time since Friday morning, the pit in my stomach lifted.

It was 7:00 and, despite my earlier excitement, I hadn't done as much as glance in a mirror since arriving in my room. Sabrina had been here, primping in front of a mirror to go "study" at the library, and she had finally left after changing her clothes upwards of five times. I pulled out my iPod and laid on my bed, staring up on the ceiling as I listened to music. After trying to put on a happy face for class today, it was a relief to not have to think about my every word or action. I could finally fully absorb what had happened to me.

So what did I know for sure? I had left the club with Fitz and had gone back to his room. I had passed out and Eli had found me in a vulnerable position and helped me. I had Rohypnol into my system at the time. Wincing, I also added that Eli had seen me naked to this list - that Dead Hand shirt had ended up on my body somehow. As one small grace, I also knew I hadn't had sex, since Eli had walked in on Fitz taking off my underwear.

And what didn't I know? Besides the events at the club before the incident, there were only two niggling questions remaining. Who had given me the Rohypnol and how had they done it? I had assumed Fitz had put it in my drink, but maybe he had just taken advantage of the situation. Not like that was any excuse – inebriation isn't an invitation. I also didn't know what else I had done with Fitz before Eli's arrival. It hurt my stomach to think about it.

Eli had filled in some blanks, but I had to accept that there would also be things that I wouldn't know about that night. I hated that I was in such a vulnerable position, but I didn't know what to do about it.

My phone beeped. _On my way_, a text from Eli read. I rolled over to look at the clock on my bedside table – somehow it was already 7:55. I hurriedly threw on my jean jacket over my sweater and black denim jeans and put on a little makeup to disguise my exhaustion that had given me a lovely death pallor. Grabbing my toothbrush, I walked down the hall to the bathroom.

Two girls from my hall were standing in there, looking at something on one girl's phone. I nodded my hello and brushed my teeth. They kept staring me when I thought I wasn't looking, until I made eye contact with the brunette, who quickly glanced away. As I exited, I heard her whisper to her friend, "That's definitely her."

Great. I was sure they were talking about my poem. So much for hoping that no one would notice it.

Eli was waiting for me in front of my door. "Ready to go?" he asked. I noticed he had changed from lunch. He was wearing a crisp black button down with a pair of jeans and looked _good_.

"Just let me get my stuff," I said.

I grabbed my bag that held my school stuff, including my writing notebooks, wallet, and room key and threw my toothbrush on my desk. "Where are we going?" I asked.

"You'll see," Eli replied as we walked out of my dorm. "Here, let me hold that for you." He took my bag from my shoulder, even though it wasn't heavy at all.

I protested, "You really don't have to do that."

"I know," he said, making eye contact. Every time I looked into his dark green eyes, I felt flutters in my stomach.

After a long moment, I looked away. "Well, you look very manly." My tote was bright pink with light brown handles, a souvenir from when I had gone to London.

It was about a ten minute walk to our mysterious destination. The whole time, we joked around, talking about UT's disastrous football team and the fact that the athletic department was now offering $5 gift cards for the university coffee shop to try to entice students into attending the games. My head was completely clear of any worrisome thoughts, which seemed to happen a lot when I was with Eli.

Soon the sight of a Ferris wheel came into sight. _Duh_. If I hadn't been so wrapped up in my personal drama, I would have remembered that the annual Toronto Fall Festival was going on. I used to be obsessed with it when I was little, but I hadn't been in years.

"I _loooooooooove_ the festival!" I squealed. I couldn't help it. Eli grinned, one of the first full-fledged smiles I had seen from him ever.

"I thought you might," he responded.

Luckily, admission was free for students so I didn't have to do the awkward dance around whether or not Eli was going to pay for me. While this was definitely not a date, strictly speaking, it was also not _not_ a date. However, I wasn't going to ruin our evening because I was worried about definitions. I was glad I had Eli in my life, even if we were just friends.

For the next few hours, Eli and I wandered around the fair, going on most of the rides and playing a lot of the games. Eli tried to knock over bottles by throwing balls at them, but completely failed, only hitting one of the six lined up.

"Shit, I was going to win you a stuffed animal to impress you," he said.

I rolled my eyes playfully. "Right, Eli. Let's not pretend athletics were ever your strong point."

"Ouch, Edwards," he said, holding a hand to his chest. "That cuts really deep."

I laughed, but my stomach was churning. Eli was trying to impress me? Did he like me? _Shut up, Clare,_ I mentally scolded myself.

"Alright," Eli said, rubbing his hands together. "So we still have to do the Ferris wheel and then I think we've done everything."

"Hey, don't forget the Big Kahuna!"

"Oh no," he said, slowly backing away. "I so do not do roller coasters."

"What?" I said. "Where is your sense of adventure? Plus, it's for, like, five year olds."

It was true. The Big Kahuna was decidedly not scary. The big "drop" was maybe twenty feet and little kids had been going on it all night. Even Darcy, who was terrified of heights, had gone on it when we were younger.

"Ferris wheel, first," Eli said decisively. "I don't know if we'll have time for the roller coaster afterwards. The festival's over at ten."

"Okayyy," I singsonged. "But, don't worry. I'm sure we'll have plenty of time for the Big Kahuna."

Eli groaned theatrically, as we loaded into our Ferris wheel car. "That's what I'm afraid of."

When I think about Ferris wheels, I always picture a little bench for just two people, like in _The Notebook_ or something. However, this one, like every other Ferris wheel I've ever been on, had carriages that held up to eight people, so rather than an intimate ride, it was very roomy. Still, Eli sat down next to me, stretching out his legs to rest on the seats opposite us.

"I love seeing the Toronto skyline," I said, looking out the window. "Even though I've lived here forever, there's still something so intriguing about the city."

"I know what you mean," Eli agreed. "But I can't wait to get out of here. As soon as I graduate from college, I'm moving to New York."

New York City sounded so foreign to me. Although I had been to various cities in North America and Europe, New York had always eluded me, my mom calling it too dangerous and my dad unwilling to let me tag along on his business trips.

"I've never been there," I admitted.

Eli turned to face me. "Really? You have to. It's the best place in the world. Everyone is always so busy and there is so much to do. It's amazing for writers."

We were approaching the top of the wheel. If Eli was going to make a move, this had to be the place. "I mean, I would love to go," I said, holding his gaze. "It just has never worked out."

"I'll take you there," he promised. We stared at each other for a long moment, and then Eli looked away. Disappointment washed over me.

"I think I have an internship there this summer," he said, looking straight ahead. "It should be neat."

"Yeah, sounds like it. What did you say you'd be doing?" I turned the conversation to a different topic, while my mind was racing. What did he mean he'd take me there? Another empty promise by someone I was close to?

By the time we got off the Ferris wheel, the atmosphere had changed from romantically charged to just friendly. I didn't know if I was relieved or disappointed. I didn't exactly want to be stuck in the friend zone with Eli, but I was unwilling to ruin our friendship and writing comradery. I glanced at the time on my cell phone. 9:40.

"You're in lucky," I teased. "We still have enough time for the roller coaster."

Instantly, Eli's face turned white. "Alright," he said nervously.

Since it was almost closing time, there was almost no line. Eli and I waited for maybe two minutes and then boarded onto the little red cars. Soon we were creaking up the hill. Eli grabbed my hand tightly.

"Why is it creaking?" he asked. "Shouldn't it be well-oiled by now? You know, safety and all?"

"You'll be fine," I reassured him, loving the feeling of his hand clasped around mine. "It's cute how you're so afraid."

I blushed hotly. Why had I said that?! Eli quirked a brow, looking more like his old self, but before he could respond, we hurtled down the hill. I laughed the whole time. Even though this wasn't a huge ride, it was still so fun.

Fifteen seconds later, it was over. I glanced over at Eli. His mouth was slightly open, but slowly turned to an expression of delight. "Let's do it again!" he said.

"Okay, but this time I'm not sure if we'll actually have time."

Luck was in our favor. We were able to ride it twice more before the operator finally told us they were closing for the night. As we walked home, Eli still was holding my hand. He had relaxed his grasp from the death grip he had on the Big Kahuna, but I wasn't positive that my fingers weren't still purple.

When we got to my dorm entrance, Eli tugged on my hand gently. "Thanks for coming with me tonight, Edwards. I had a lot of fun."

"I did too," I said looking up at him. He stared right back. Suddenly, I was sick of all the wanting and wishing and uncertainty about his feelings. There was only one was to find out, right? I leaned in slowly and placed a gentle kiss on the corner of his mouth.

I leaned back to gauge his reaction. Eli's eyes widened almost imperceptibly. "Edwards," he said slowly.

"I'm sorry," I said, wishing the ground would open and swallow me up. "I shouldn't have done that."

I tried to pull my hand away, but he held it more firmly. "Clare. Look at me. I've wanted to kiss you all night, but I wasn't sure if I should after what you went through in the past few days. I don't want you to think I was taking advantage of you."

My heart melted. "Eli, of course I know that you wouldn't do something like that."

A small smile played across his lips. "Good. Then I guess I can do this."

He bent his head towards me and we finally, finally, finally kissed.


End file.
